Sickness and Health
by peroxidepest17
Summary: Hatori at the bedside of an ill Jyunnishi.


**Title:** Sickness and Health  
**Author:** Celeste  
**Feedback:** (Yes!)  
**Rating:** PG-13 for shounen-ai themes  
**Pairings:** Hatori/Shigure, but barely there.  
**Summary:** Hatori at the bedside of an ill Jyunnishi.  
**Spoilers:** Not that I know of, really.  
**Disclaimer:** Not my characters, just my WAFFY, pointless scenario. Or maybe not even that. --;;  
**Dedication:** For Skye, because I owe her b-day and X-mas stuff still and I'm a bad person and very, very late. Sorry, Skye. --;;  
**A/N:** I haven't written anything for waaay too long for anyone to have any high expectations of this fic. OOCness, super fluff, and pointless sap moments abound!  
**Word Count:** 1,699  
**Distribution:** Lemme know? :P

* * *

He feels Hatori's fingers brush hair back from his forehead, pushing them out of the way before there is the soft pressure of a practiced palm against his skin. He sighs into it and his eyelids flutter lightly for a moment, but being far too lazy to force them open, he settles back down and lets them fall completely shut again, putting himself back into the hazy comfort of being half-asleep.

The doctor clucks a bit at his snoozing companion's look of childish self-satisfaction, but says nothing because he is relieved that there is no fever currently burning under the weight of his hand.

Pneumonia is ugly in most cases, but for the Jyunnishi, the illness is positively hideous.

This is the bedside the dragon has found himself beside for the better part of the past week and a half, and the result of his hard work is laying there, comfortably warm but not too hot, feeling slightly damp with sweat against his own dry skin. The fever has broken and the breathing is easier, telling him that the fluid is beginning to drain from the other man's lungs.

Sleep is comfortable now as well. He can tell because of the way his cousin nuzzles absently into his touch, a lazy, dream-happy expression on his face as he finds the most comfortable place to be somewhere in-between deep slumber and half-wakefulness.

Hatori sighs and removes his hand, weary but glad nonetheless, that Shigure is well on the road to recovery.

In a rare moment of wry humor, the doctor thinks to himself that once the last tablet of medicine is gone from the orange-brown bottle atop the nightstand, the dog will be up and ready to annoy again, to make Hatori shake his head and partially regret all of the hard work he has put into making it possible for the other man to speak once more.

But truth be told, that sporadic spark of humor is simply the result of his relief at the dog's slowly returning health. He would never blurt it openly to the world, but in all honesty, he much prefers his companion's boisterous teasing to the shuddering breaths and hacking cough he had come upon after a slightly hysterical call placed to the main house by one Honda Tohru many days before.

Shigure would be well soon.

The doctor takes a small breath and leans back in his chair, stretching his stiff legs a bit by extending his toes and bending at the ankle. There are several quiet, satisfying pops that result, and he allows a slight, self-indulgent smile.

He imagines that once Shigure decides he is well-rested enough to open his eyes, he will smile that dog-smile of his and demand to be pampered properly.

Hatori hopes to be back at the main house long before that occurs, but isn't so keen on leaving Tohru to bear the brunt of the other man's attention whoring.

Having been in that situation once himself, Hatori knows that enduring Shigure's constant solicitations for sympathy is comparably worse to all of the time he has spent, brows knit in concern, beside the shallowly-breathing mutt's sickbed.

Shigure being Shigure, takes merciless advantage of being fussed over.

Something like fond exasperation tickles the back of Hatori's throat and he coughs softly to dispel it before it spreads. But he is not fast enough it seems, because suddenly he is looking down at tired, open brown eyes and a smile that might have been characterized as warm had there not been so much gleeful knowledge behind it.

"Ha-san does care," Shigure croaks out on the other man's expression, voice rough from disuse and the remaining phlegm that stubbornly continues to lodge in his throat.

Hatori frowns and moves to the water boiler he'd moved into the room, fixing his patient a cup of warm tea with a liberal dousing of honey to ease the burning sensation accompanied with speech. "Idiot, don't talk unless it's necessary," he murmurs around the mug, helping Shigure sit up properly so he can sip at it. "Drink slowly."

The author seems to want to say something, but Hatori stops him before he can with a stern look, the same one he'd often used to reign in Shigure's love for troublemaking when they were growing up.

Shigure, well trained as any dog can be, notes the look and chooses to yield this time, perhaps noticing the thick layer of fatigue coating the other man- slight bags under Hatori's eyes and the way his back is slouching ever so slightly in his seat. But the dog's eyes tell the doctor that he can't expect too much more conceding on the author's part, at least after today.

The room is bathed in a comfortable silence as Shigure sips gingerly at his warm tea and Hatori lets himself examine the now-conscious patient with his eyes.

"Do you feel up to eating anything?" Hatori inquires gently once Shigure finishes drinking and silently hands the half-empty mug back to him.

The dog makes a face that signals vague distaste at the idea of having to eat anything and Hatori lets the subject drop for now, though he will go downstairs later tonight and ask Tohru to prepare a broth and some crackers.

"You should be completely recovered in a few days," he tells Shigure absently, eyes resting on the hands his cousin has folded into his lap. The dog's pallor isn't glowingly healthy, but he looks decidedly less clammy and his breathing sounds even less rough now that he is sitting up and he has some warm fluid in him.

Hatori tries not to let how glad he is at these signs show, keeps a firm set in his jaw and shapes his mouth into a pensively neutral line as he continues to gaze upon his cousin, mind working quickly towards the next step, the procedures that need be taken over the next few days to ensure as speedy a recovery as possible as well as quarantine anything infectious from the household's other members. They aren't quite out of the woods yet after all, and Hatori is far too practical to do anything but take every precaution possible until they are.

But Shigure is too good at reading people, even half-awake and groggy with the tail-end pains of sickness, and he can tell exactly what is going through Hatori's head even though he does not know every little technical term that might be used by the doctor. All he needs to do is to take note of the weariness, the worry and the relief he sees in his cousin's eyes, because those are the only things that truly matter anyway. His hand moves from its place in his lap after a moment, wordlessly beckoning the thoughtful, frowning physician closer.

Hatori's eyebrow quirks ever so slightly but he grudgingly stands again and leans forward at Shigure's request, too concerned about how the other man is feeling to be wary of his antics as per usual.

Shigure smiles as Hatori moves towards him and reaches out with his hand, pulling the other man forward by his white coat quickly but gently, unbalancing his cousin enough so that their foreheads are allowed to touch. Shigure's skin is a little damp, a little pallid against his own, but Hatori is not bothered by the action so much as irritated at the expression he can see on the other man's face.

"What are you doing?" the doctor inquires before he can stop himself, though he doesn't pull away instantly.

Shigure shakes his head slightly in a gentle puppy nuzzle, letting Hatori feel the brush of the other man's bangs against his forehead. "Mmm…Ha-san looks tired. I just wanted to make sure he wasn't getting sick too," the dog whispers innocently, though there is a decided twinkle in his eye as he says this. "I don't feel a fever. That's good."

Hatori is tempted to roll his eyes at the childish display of affection but pulls away instead, seating himself back in his chair as comfortably as possible. "Idiot," he murmurs, rubbing at his head like there is the beginnings of a headache there, where he and Shigure touched. "Be quiet and go back to sleep," he instructs calmly.

Shigure's eyes laugh back at him silently though it is clear he is still tired when he allows himself to nestle back down into the blankets in response to the physician's instruction.

Hatori extends a hand to tuck the edges more firmly under the dog as he prepares to rest again.

"I'm glad Ha-san cares," Shigure whispers, happily surrendering himself to the dragon's mother-hennish tendencies.

"Didn't I tell you not to talk anymore?" Hatori chastises back softly, though with no malice.

Shigure's expression laughs back at him, a warm, grateful molding of his features as he looks upon his faithful caretaker, attempting to convey the depth of his regard without words.

It is a rare moment of unguarded honesty in Shigure's eyes, and Hatori surrenders to it himself, because seeing his cousin as he sees him now, without guile or his usual sense of unholy mirth, makes the weariness that has built up in the doctor's bones these past few days seem inconsequential. "You're welcome," Hatori breathes after a moment, leaning down to kiss the dog's forehead gently.

Shigure sighs softly at the contact and lets his eyes close again. Tomorrow, he will wake up and take full advantage of his situation, perhaps drive Hatori insane with his requests and pleadings and demands for attention. Tomorrow, he will be himself again.

But for now, he is resolved to surrender to the other man's calm instruction because he is grateful that Hatori cares.

Come morning, he will irritate Hatori as much as he wants to and more. But this is the time for silence, for comfortable companionship and peaceful slumber.

Shigure smiles gently and allows himself drift back towards the warm haze of deep sleep, confidently plotting what morning will bring, up through his last second of wakefulness.

Tomorrow, he will go back to driving his cousin to distraction.

He knows Hatori will be there when he wakes up.

**END**


End file.
